Home Sweet Gnome (6 page)

“Dude, your bike got totaled by Silky Tangles. Cool. I know how I’d make her pay for damages,” the college kid’s friend told McHottie.

McHottie’s jaw clenched…again, and he stood to his full height, much taller and broader than the college kid. This was the look of doom he gave me yesterday on the side of the road right before he Tased me. Obviously it hadn’t scared me since he’d had to fry my brain cells, but college kid looked really freaked out. He practically peed his pants and slinked off in his car with his buddy and left. Others backed away slowly and went about their day.

“I’ll pay for the damages.” I stood and held up my hands in surrender. “Let’s just get it to a mechanic and it will be as good as new.”

He just shook his head as if I were an idiot. “You can’t just take this bike to a mechanic. It needs to go to Bob, a guy who fixes Harleys. But he’s in Sturgis. I’d be there too in about eight hours if you hadn’t backed into the bike.” He placed his hands on his hips. His narrow hips that looked very nice with a pair of low-slung jeans about them.

Sturgis, South Dakota, hosted an annual motorcycle rally, famous among the motorcycle crowd. I knew nothing about motorcycles and I’d heard of it. Bikers migrated there like monarch butterflies year after year for a week of fun. I’d never been, so I had no idea what actually happened, but most likely it included a lot of leather and definitely involved a crap load of motorcycles. A bike was pretty much a requirement. And, it seemed, it was happening now. Because of me, without McHottie.

I licked my lips nervously. “I’m really sorry.” I felt terrible. I didn’t have to like the guy to feel bad that his plans had been messed up. My phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket. Goldie.

“Where are you? We’re at the house waiting,” she said.

“Oh, um. I ran into a little trouble at the gas station.” I nibbled on my lip and glanced at McHottie. He rolled his eyes at my pun. Of course I hadn’t meant it.
Right.

“Where are you?”

“On East Main.”

“We’ll be there in five minutes.” Goldie clicked off before I could tell her not to come, but she lived just down the street and wouldn’t steer clear of trouble if it was about to run her over. Maybe when Goldie and Aunt Velma showed up
I
wouldn’t look quite as crazy. It was a long five minutes, McHottie getting on his cell and talking to someone, gesturing with his hands in ways that indicated several different options for my demise. For once I was thankful to see Goldie’s car squeal into the lot practically on two wheels. The windows were rolled down and the latest Coldplay song blasted. She and Aunt Velma hopped out and assessed the situation, hands on hips.

“Hey, we know you,” Aunt Velma said. “You’re Detective McHottie.”

Oh my god. I should just reach into the guy’s jacket pocket, pull out his gun and kill myself. It would be less painful than the mortification of this moment.

“McHottie?” He shut his eyes and just shook his head. Yup, at least now he knew crazy was hereditary. He sighed. “Yeah, I know you, too.”

Clearly yesterday’s debacle wasn’t forgotten by anyone.

Goldie shouldered her way into the group and looked down at the motorcycle. “I’ll get Bob on the horn and he’ll fix that right up.”

McHottie glanced at Goldie. “You know Bob?”

Goldie looked surprised. “Sure. Everyone knows Bob.”

I didn’t know Bob.

“He’s my brother-in-law’s nephew on his wife’s side’s neighbor,” Goldie explained.

McHottie froze, processed. And now I knew why I didn’t know Bob.

“I’ve got him on speed dial.” She whipped out her cell and dialed him right up. “Hey, Bob, it’s Goldie. No, that movie hasn’t come in yet. You’re first on the waiting list.” She listened. “Yes, I know it’s got Silky Tangles in it.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Look, I need a new front wheel for a Harley Softtail Fat Boy pronto. It looks like—” she leaned in toward the bike to get a better look, “—a new front fork, too.” She listened. “Uh-huh, I see. You’re there now, huh? ’Til when? Right.”

We all stared at her, including McHottie, stunned she could name a Harley model just by looking at it. She never ceased to amaze.

“Yes, it JT’s bike. Is that so?” She continued her conversation with the infamous Bob, but turned to look at McHottie. “You arranged that for JT? Are you sure that’s a good idea? Oh, right, that makes sense. He is on vacation.”

Goldie grinned and looked at JT—I couldn’t call him McHottie anymore since I knew his real name—in a new way I couldn’t interpret. Bob said something that piqued Goldie’s curiosity, and it had to do with JT. And it had to have a story. Goldie loved a good story.

“All right. That’s not a bad idea.” She nodded her head. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll get back to you. Thanks, Bob.” Goldie hung up, waggled her eyebrows. “So, JT, I guess you really want to get to Sturgis?”

JT just looked at Goldie for a moment, then muttered a bad word under his breath. “He told you?”

She nodded slowly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, but you should remember, everyone tells me
everything.
”

Aunt Velma and I looked between the two completely clueless. It was as if they spoke in a foreign language.

“Bob’s in Sturgis for the rally like JT said,” Goldie added.

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” JT replied, pointing down at the broken bike.

“We’re actually headed to Omaha in that.” Goldie pointed at the pickle, which now that my heart rate had returned to normal, I saw a nice big dent in the back bumper and undercarriage. Great. Hopefully Goldie wouldn’t notice it since she was selling it. “I’ve got a trailer in storage we can put your bike on and take it…and you, to Sturgis. It’s on the way. It’s the least we can do. Bob said if we call him when we get there, he can arrange to get the bike fixed.”

JT looked surprised. “Really?”

“Really. You don’t believe me,” Goldie countered archly.

He held up a hand in front of him. “No, ma’am. I believe you.” He scratched the back of his neck, clearly unsure of what to say. “It’s just that it’s Sturgis and there are going to be thousands of Harleys. I figure Bob will be too busy having fun to take on a fix while he’s there.”

Goldie cracked her knuckles. “That’s most likely true, but people just seem to want to help me.”

“Is it perhaps because you know if someone likes to watch girl-on-girl porn or purchased the triple donger for a anniversary present?” Aunt Velma clarified. “Or in Bob’s case, the new movie starring Silky Tangles?” She turned her gaze to me.

I just looked at her with my
What?
stare.

Goldie shrugged.

“Like you said, it’s been a long time since I’ve been in your store,” JT told Goldie, his face hard and lacking emotion. “You don’t have anything on me that isn’t ancient history.”

Goldie winked slyly. “I do now.”

JT’s cheeks flushed crimson and he pursed his lips into a tight line.

“So, need that ride to Sturgis?”

CHAPTER FIVE

It only took an hour to get the broken bike up on a flatbed trailer and the whole thing hooked up to the back of the RV. The two guys who brought it most likely had some kinds of weird sexual fetishes that they were afraid Goldie would let slip. Little did they know that Goldie never told. Ever. Clearly not knowing that, they had the bike secured quickly and efficiently. They paused and offered their condolences to JT before they drove off. I stayed as far away from the man as possible.

“I need to pack.”

“You both do,” Goldie cut in. She tossed me her keys, but I wasn’t ready so I fumbled for them like a woman scrambling for a tossed wedding bouquet. “Perhaps it’s best if you take my car and I drive the RV.”

“Good thinking,” Aunt Velma added. “Let’s meet back at Goldie’s house in say…an hour?”

Goldie nodded and we all looked to JT. He was staring forlornly at his bike. “One hour. I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he sighed heavily, “but I’ll ride with Goldie. You should have your license revoked.” He pointed at me like Uncle Sam, then walked over to the passenger door of the pickle. Climbed in. Slammed the door hard enough to rock the RV from side to side.

“Those are some mighty fine buns of steel,” Aunt Velma whispered. Very loudly.

A woman with a Disneyland T-shirt and Day-Glo jog shorts paused with her super-sized slushy and enjoyed the view—the back half of JT—with us. “Mmm-mmm. They sure make them fine up here in Montana.”

Yes, ma’am, they sure did.

***

We pulled into Goldie’s driveway right on schedule. Aunt Velma was a stickler for punctuality so I couldn’t be sure I’d included everything I needed for a road trip across the American West. My bag was packed, ready for Thailand, so I swapped out a few things for extreme heat and humidity with a little lightweight fleece.

JT was leaning over his bike, adjusting the yellow ratchet straps that held it down. I didn’t get anywhere near him. Not that I was avoiding the man, which I was, but because if something else happened to the bike, it wasn’t going to be my fault. Didn’t mean I couldn’t stare at his butt from a distance.

“All ready!” Goldie pranced out of her house, the screen door slapping behind her. She hadn’t changed, but added square sunglasses that were so dark I couldn’t see her eyes and so big she wouldn’t need sunscreen on her face. “I’m so excited. At first I thought this was going to be a dull trip, but it’s shaped up into something fun!”

I’d never seen Goldie so perky before. It was as if she’d had three cups of coffee and an energy drink since we saw her an hour ago. Calm Goldie was frightening enough. I had no idea what she’d come up with if her mind moved any faster.

“I’m ready GG,” a voice called from inside. “I went pee just like you said. And here’s my pee bottle!”

A boy of about seven or eight came barreling out Goldie’s front door. In one hand he had an empty soda bottle, clearly his emergency pee container, and in the other a—what the hell was that?

“Hi, Aunt Velma,” he cried, running over to give her legs a hug. He wasn’t a small child, but Velma was like Hagrid from Harry Potter in comparison. Getting a closer look, I saw that in his hand was a ceramic garden gnome. Little blue jacket, pointy red hat, big cheeky grin. Why he carried it, I had no idea.

“Great, Zach, hop on in and find a spot with a seat belt and buckle up.”

For the first time, I think JT and I had similar expressions. Complete confusion. I leaned my head toward Aunt Velma. “Um, why is that kid going with us?” I whispered.

“That’s Zach, Goldie’s grandson. He’s got a friend in Billings and we’re going to take him over there and leave him. His mom, you know Jane West, will get him tomorrow. I told them to go to the Olive Garden. I love that restaurant. All you can eat breadsticks and salad. Pity Billings has the closest one.”

I tried to keep up, but I had to admit, I got hungry when she mentioned breadsticks. “So two hours with a kid?” I asked. I knew Jane, sort of. The last time I’d seen Zach he was toddling around, so it had definitely been a while.

I had nothing against this kid specifically, but I wasn’t good with them in general. My little kid days with my parents were just blurry images in my head, and Aunt Velma had tried her best, but even though I had been one didn’t mean I could be responsible enough for raising one without serious mental issues.

Velma turned to look at me, disapproval on her face. “Daphne Lane. You don’t like kids?”

“I do.” Sort of. “Don’t they always ask,
Are we there yet?
over and over?”

Aunt Velma pursed her lips. “Well, that’s true. But it’s only two hours.”

Right, only two hours. Gilligan and his crew went out for three-hour tour and never came back.

“Saddle up!” Goldie called, hopping into the driver’s seat.

JT hadn’t said a word, hadn’t gotten near us. I had a feeling he wanted to be anywhere on the planet besides riding in a metallic pickle with two borderline geriatric women, a woman he’d Tased and a kid holding a garden gnome and a pee bottle. Climbing in and shutting the door behind him had to be one of the hardest things he ever had to do.

Even though he was a complete jerk, I sympathized because I felt just about the same way. Although, it was going to be pretty dang hard not to jump his bones with his fabulous scent filling the closed space for several hundred miles. It was possible the pheromones he pumped out would pull Goldie and Aunt Velma right out of menopause.

Goldie took the driver’s seat, Aunt Velma claimed shotgun, with Zach sitting behind Aunt Velma in a chair I hadn’t noticed before, which dropped from the wall like a jump seat for a flight attendant on an airplane. He was all buckled in safely and the three of them were gabbing away.

JT and I sat on the bench seats farther back, me behind the small table, him, with his legs stretched out, across from me. “You know this is all your fault,” he said bitterly.

“Me?”

“You ran over my motorcycle.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

I leaned forward, bracing my forearms on the table. “You made me miss my plane. If you had just let me go, I’d be somewhere over the Pacific Ocean right now and I wouldn’t have hit your flipping motorcycle. And I wouldn’t be riding in this RV either.”